


Compendium

by Morbidmuch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Dystopia, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light BDSM, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbidmuch/pseuds/Morbidmuch
Summary: A collection of Sevmione drabbles and ficlets originally posted on tumblr. Ratings and any warnings for each drabble/ficlet are listed in the chapter summary.Additional tags will be updated as they become relevant.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 31
Kudos: 112





	1. Into and Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Warnings: None
> 
> For [Mersheeple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mersheeple/)

"Can you feel it?"

Hermione nods, licking her dry lips. Her eyes move behind closed lids. The cool air feels good on her heated skin, almost like a caress. Her hands clenches and unclenches at her sides.

There it is again, a small nudge on the edge of her consciousness.

She inhales deeply, and her shields dissolve like candyfloss in water. His presence washes into her, over her.

"Severus," she sighs.

Her body feels weighed down yet weightless. Every tiny hair is standing at attention as he slips further into her mind. Heat pools in her chest and between her legs. She bites her lip. It's too much.

"You can take it," his voice is like silk. "Let yourself go."

She shatters into a thousand little pieces. Her back arches, her toes curl into the sheets and the sound that leaves her mouth is almost inhuman.

Hermione lies panting for several minutes before she opens her eyes and rolls onto her side.

She giggles and pushes a damp curl from her forehead. "Wow."

"Agreed." Severus smirks from his place in the chair by the window. He's still fully clothed but his eyes are clouded with lust.

Her gaze drifts to his tented trousers. "I want to touch you."

He stands. "As you wish."


	2. Allow Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None
> 
> For [Dragoon811](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragoon811/pseuds/dragoon811)

“Allow me.”

He reaches over her head, pulling down the book that was just beyond her grasp. She's been back at Hogwarts for two days and it's the first time they've interacted. He's back in his dungeons, she's up on the sixth floor teaching Ancient Runes. In the years since he narrowly escaped death in the Shrieking Shack, they've crossed paths maybe twice. He heard from Minerva that she and the Weasley boy went their separate ways.

Good riddance, he thinks. She was too smart for the likes of Ron Weasley anyway.

“Allow me.”

She looks tired, and ink is covering her hand and has spattered up on her jaw. They're alone in the staff room, and she struggles to open the door and not drop any of the many, many books in her arms. It's almost Christmas, and he's already hexed the singing garland above the mantle twice. She smiles at him (close-mouthed but friendly) and his fingers grip the edge of the door. He all but presses himself back against it as she walks past him, leaving a trail of cinnamon and mint behind her.

“Allow me.”

His nimble fingers untangle her scarf and he tries to ignore the way his cheeks flush. She's standing close; he can see the flecks of amber in her eyes and the traces of makeup on her cheeks. When they became friendly, he's not sure. But they are, and he finds he enjoys it. Very much. Too much.

“Allow me.”

The setting sun casts a golden light on her face (is he staring? He feels as though he's staring) and her lips are moving but he can't hear a word she's saying. A stray curl blows across her face, and before he can think of what he's doing he's reached out and brushed it back. Her cheeks flush. He clears his throat.

“Allow me.”

He's dreaded the last day of the term for weeks. Months, even. She'll go back to London for the summer, he'll be at Spinner's End. He's not delusional enough to think she will keep in touch. He is packing up his office for the holiday when she appears in his doorway. She has no business looking that beautiful. She's fidgety, babbling on how she'll miss the students, and she can't believe how fast this year has gone, and will he come to London to visit her? He stops and blinks. She looks determined. Then she's in front of him, voice soft as she rises up and pulls him down and then her mouth is on his.

“Allow me.”

She's smiling, and so is he but he doesn't care about that because she's nodding vigorously through teary eyes. His hands shake slightly as he slips the ring on her finger, terrified she'll change her mind. Then she kisses him fiercely and all his doubts fade away.


	3. The Light in the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None
> 
> For [Q_Drew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/q_drew/)

Her heart is pounding, sweat pooling on her brow and down her back. She walks slowly, glancing down with every step to avoid the glass and the debris. You can never be too careful. There isn't much left, but she grabs what she can and shoves it into her backpack. As she turns towards another shelf, her elbow catches a tin. It crashes to the floor, and she freezes. She stops breathing, waiting for the sound of footsteps.

There's only silence.

She exhales shakily, and hurries to put the last of the tins in her backpack. Making sure it's securely closed, she closes her eyes and Disapparates.

She appears in a run-down cottage and within two seconds there is a wand to her throat. Hers is out equally as fast.

Its owner, a sallow-skinned man with long dark hair, speaks in a grave voice, “What did I use to call you in your essays?”

“An insufferable know-it-all. What did I say to you that night in the Shrieking Shack?”

“You're not dying tonight, Sir. Not on my watch.”

Their eyes stay locked for a beat, then they both lower their wands.

“Granger,” he says with a nod.

She sheaths her wand. “Snape.”

Hermione unpacks the little food she managed to get. It'll get them through the next week, maybe a week and a half. Neither have much appetite anymore. It's been three months since they crossed paths, and they've been together ever since. It's not safe going about alone, not in these times.

“Did anyone follow you?”

She shakes her head. “I didn't see anyone.” But there's no way to be sure, so they won't be getting any sleep tonight.

He prepares the food, and she studies the old map on the table. They've been here too long already, they should get moving.

As she stands to wash up before dinner, there's a creak on the stairs.

Brown eyes wide, she meets his onyx ones. They're filled with fear.

They've been found.


	4. Daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None
> 
> For [turtle_wexler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_wexler/pseuds/turtle_wexler)

Severus is wide awake and staring up at the ceiling.

Next to him, Hermione snores softly. Little puffs that warm his chest with every breath she takes. His skin is hot and slightly sticky where she's pressed against him. He peers down at the slope of her brow, the darkness of her lashes against her cheek. The sunshine they've enjoyed the past weeks has brought out freckles scattered across her nose and shoulders. After she voiced her dislike of them, he made it his mission to kiss every single one.

He sighs. The ceiling needs repainting. They've lived in the stone cottage with the sage door for two months and it seems like there's an endless list of things to do. She enjoys the painting, the redecorating, fixing up the garden. They go to antique stores and he grumbles as he carries yet another side table – _“Severus, isn't it beautiful?”_ – but deep down he loves it. Loves the light in her eyes, the way she practically bounces with excitement. He will do whatever it takes to see that smile on her face.

Severus curls his body around his sleeping wife.

Outside their window, the world slowly comes to life.


	5. Milk and Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Warnings: Tea blasphemy
> 
> For an anonymous prompter

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You cannot be serious.”

“Why not?”

“Because it's wrong.”

She raises her chin. “Says who?”

“Says everyone.”

“Well, everyone is wrong.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. How could he not have known this about her?

“You're being difficult on purpose.”

“I'm being difficult? What about you, Mr 'my way is the only correct way to do anything'?”

He's slightly offended by that. He's not that bad, is he? “That's not true.”

Her eyebrows raise towards her hairline. “No? 'let's organise our bookcases this way, Hermione, it's so much better. Don't slice the gurdyroot that way, slice it this way. We can't use your bed, we have to use my bed'.”

He blinks twice. “I thought you liked my bed.”

She sighs. “I do. I'm sorry. It's just...” she rakes a hand through her hair and winces when it catches on tangles. “I've had to defend this my whole life. I don't need it from you too.”

He pulls her close and kisses her forehead. “I'm sorry too. It's a valid, though admittedly slightly controversial opinion. I was just surprised.”

She smiles and grips his forearms.

The next day he makes her tea just the way she likes it; with milk and honey.


	6. He who doesn't take risks doesn't drink champagne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None
> 
> For [LadyHeliotrope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyHeliotrope)

Severus' eyes flickered around the room, hands stuck firmly in his pockets. He loathed the Ministry's annual Remembrance Fundraiser. It had been fifteen years since the Dark Lord had been banished, did they really need to keep doing this?

Close to the stage he saw Granger speak with a man from the Auror department. Granger looked bored, and Severus snorted. He didn't blame her.

Her face turned, and their eyes met. He resisted the urge to look away. They'd been dancing around each other for months, since they started working together at the Ministry. He wasn't sure why neither of them had made a move yet; she was assertive and he usually had no problems taking what he wanted. Fear gnawed at him. What if she rejected him? He couldn't bear it.

Granger gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher, and it took him a minute to realise what it was. It was a 'help me' look; to save her from the dreadful conversation. This was the moment. Could he take that risk? Risk rejection, heartache? Getting lost in her brown eyes, he found that he could. He could take that risk. 

With assured steps he crossed the room, plucking two glasses of champagne from a waiter's tray as he did.


	7. The Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Warnings: Alcoholism, violence
> 
> For [Dragoon811](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragoon811/pseuds/dragoon811)  
> Beta'd by [turtle_wexler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_wexler)

Hermione didn't notice the signs.

Severus' behaviour was the same as usual; he would kiss her when she Flooed in from work, pour her wine, listen to her rant about the imbeciles at the Ministry. He reached for her just the same, made her gasp and moan as he drove her over the edge. He was always whippet-thin and not even regular visits to the Burrow had changed that. Hermione loved the way he felt against her; his body strong yet fragile. He usually had a glass of firewhisky at the end of the day; to relax, he said.

Everything was fine, until it wasn't.

Until she got a call from her mother in Australia. Her father had been in an accident – he needed surgery. She packed her bags and left immediately.

Until she came back two weeks later and tasted Sober Up potion on Severus' lips when he kissed her hello.

Until she noticed he was looking more and more sallow.

Until she realised he was drinking and hiding it from her. She had no experience with drinking problems, and she didn't know what to do.

A month went by, then two.

She walked on eggshells, pretending not to notice how he kept rubbing his stomach and taking antacid potions. Pretending not to notice how thin he'd become.

One evening in late August, everything fell apart.

Hermione came home early from work, determination pulsing in her veins. Her first stop was the potions lab in the loft. A couple of summoning spells and bottle after bottle of Sober Up and antacid potions flew into her hands. Tears streamed down her face as she poured them down the sink. Next came the alcohol, and she could hardly see from all the tears. There were so many bottles.

It made the lab smell like a distillery when she dumped the first bottle in the sink.

She didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs.

“What in the Devil's name do you think you're doing?” Severus' eyes were wide, black holes in his thin face.

“Saving your life,” she said, opening the next bottle and turning it upside down over the sink.

“No! I need that!” he roared, flying into the room.

Hermione cried out when his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, trying to dislodge the bottle from her grip. He twisted his hand, and she let go of the bottle as pain radiated up her arm. Glass and brandy went everywhere as the bottle hit the sink. She wrenched her wrist from his grip and backed away until she hit the wall, where she sank to the ground.

Her chest heaved with her sobs, and the room was a blur through her tears. She cradled her wrist in her hand. “I can't do this anymore,” she sobbed. “I can't watch you slowly kill yourself while pretending everything is all right. You need help, Severus.”

He was still facing the sink, his back towards her.

She wiped at her face and stood. Slowly approaching him, she put a hand between his shoulder blades. “Severus, please.”

He whipped around, and she recoiled. His eyes were wild. “Get out.”

She squared her jaw, though her determined stance was lessened by her voice cracking as she said, “No.”

His breath was sour on her face when he sneered. “For once in your life do as you're told and get the fuck out!”

“No!”

For a moment she thought she had got through to him. Then he growled and grabbed her arm, shoving her towards the door.

“Severus, please,” she sobbed, pushing at him and struggling to keep her footing. “Don't do this.” She grabbed the door frame and dug her heels into the carpet, but it made no difference. With another shove, she was sent to the floor, where she gasped for breath. The loft door slammed shut, and she felt his magic thrum as he set up wards. Then came the sound of a bottle breaking. She sobbed harder. More bottles; glass against wood and metal. A groan of wood – most likely the worktop – as he pulled the oak from the wall.

Hermione covered her ears with her hands. She hadn't known where she would draw the line – where she would admit that she could not help him – but she knew in an instant this was it.

He was still tearing apart the lab when she shakily got to her feet and packed her bags.


	8. It only hurts when I breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: Mentions of alcoholism
> 
> For [q_drew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/q_drew/pseuds/q_drew)  
> Beta'd by [turtle_wexler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_wexler)

She moves into Grimmauld Place, gets the guest room with the yellow curtains on the second floor that overlooks the street below and the square beyond it. She goes to work and plays with the children and cries herself to sleep for weeks. She sits by the window and watches the leaves changing colour from leafy green to flaming red and orange.

One windy afternoon when she gets back from the Ministry, there's green and purple coloured bunting strung across the entire hallway.

“Happy birthday!” Lily Luna squeals, practically leaping into Hermione's arms.

“Thank you!” she laughs, barely keeping upright as she gets an armful of a rambunctious five-year-old. “Did you put up all these yourself?”

“Mmh,” Lily says, puffing up her chest. She looks so much like Ginny, it's almost scary. “Mum helped, but only a little!”

“Only because you couldn't reach the highest ones,” Ginny says with a smile.

“Well thank you both, it's very pretty,” Hermione says as Luna wriggles her way out of her arms.

Ginny smiles. “Happy birthday, love.”

Hermione smiles, trying not to think about the fact that there has been no word from Severus.

–

In late October, Harry comes back from Hogwarts looking frazzled. After putting Lily to bed, he calls her down to the kitchen.

He runs his hand through his hair – which is shorter but no less messy than when they were kids – and sighs. “Snape came to see me last week.”

Something hurts close to Hermione's ribs. At least he hasn't drunk himself to death. “Oh?”

“I'm not going to lie; he looked like shite.” He hesitates.

Hermione sighs. “Just spit it out, Harry. I'm a big girl; I can take it.”

“He asked about you. I'm not saying you need to forgive him or take him back,” he adds quickly. “That's not my place. But Hermione, he sought me out. I don't think he's spoken two words to me for years. That's got to mean something, doesn't it?”

Hermione can't help but agree, although what it means she doesn't know.

–

They set up a meeting in a Muggle café in Pimlico.

Hermione thinks of it as neutral ground, far both from Grimmauld Place and their townhouse in Holland Park. It's decorated for Christmas, and she already knows Severus will hate it. He never was one to get in the holiday spirit. She's early, and she wrings her hands whilst trying not to look up every time the door opens.

She senses his presence before he's even entered the café – her magic reaching out to his like an embrace. It's comforting and seductive and it makes her want to cry.

He looks better, she notes, as he weaves between tables to reach her. His hair is pulled back from his face, and he's in a black polo jumper. He still looks too thin, but his face has lost its sallow tone.

The chair scrapes across the floor as he sits.

For a moment, she can't speak. Then her tongue unsticks and she blurts out, “You look nice.”

The corner of his mouth quirks upwards. “Thank you. You look lovely.”

They order coffee – decaf for Hermione – and make stilted small talk like it's a first date. They talk about work (stressful for her, good for him), the weather (“I'm very tired of all the rain,”) and the upcoming holiday (“If I have to hear that blasted song one more time I will hex someone,”).

In a quiet moment, Severus exhales shakily. “I almost didn't show up today. How could I face you after what I did?”

“Severus...”

“No,” he says firmly. “There is no excuse or explanation I could give.”

He reaches into his trouser pocket and puts something small and green on the table next to her cup. A sobriety chip. Her breath hitches.

“It's only three months,” he says. “I still struggle every day, but I'm trying.” He clears his throat. “I told myself I wouldn't do this – ask anything of you. Merlin knows I don't deserve it. I want you in my life, Hermione. If there's the slightest chance that you could trust me again I will wait however long you need. If you can't,” his voice cracks slightly, “then I won't bother you again. Just say the word.”

Hermione's heart threatens to break out of her ribcage. A moment's hesitation before she reaches across the table. His hand is warm in hers. “I can.”


	9. Her Quiet Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None
> 
> For [Mersheeple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersheeple/pseuds/Mersheeple)

Life is loud.

It's loud at work, where she spends her days arguing why centaurs and werewolves deserve the same rights as witches and wizards.

It's loud at home, with a screaming toddler whom she loves very much but never wanted and doesn't know how to deal with. With Ron, who doesn't know how to be anything but loud. He's loud when he eats, when he brushes his teeth, when he grabs her hips too tightly and comes inside her.

Hermione resents the loudness.

So she works late, when the office is empty and she can finally breathe.

She takes off her shoes – not even a strong cushioning charm helps when it's been that long – and put her feet up on her desk. With a contented sigh, she removes the clip holding up her hair and throws it on the desk.

“Making yourself comfortable?”

The voice startles her, and she puts a hand over her racing heart.

“Merlin, Severus.” She sits up properly and turns to the dark man standing in the doorway. “What have I told you about the skulking?”

Severus shrugs and enters the room. “It's not my fault you're unobservant. I thought you were a war veteran.”

She rolls her chair back a bit as he situates himself against her desk. “I'm getting you a bell for Christmas.”

“As long as it's silver; gold makes me look washed out.”

Hermione chuckles and tucks a curl behind her ear. “Deal.”

Nothing about Severus is loud. Being around him – which she is quite frequently these days while they work on legislations for werewolves – is the closest thing Hermione gets to quiet.

She's relieved he thinks her unobservant. It's better than admitting she has a humiliating crush on him. He's not much changed since the war, other than a casual air of confidence she doesn't recognise from before. It's what first drew her to him, what made her mind wander to him in the dark while Ron snored loudly – always so loud – next to her.

“Shouldn't you be getting home?” his voice breaks through her thoughts.

She hopes she hadn't been staring, and clears her throat. “I probably should.”

She bends down to put on her shoes, feeling tired from the loudness she'll get at home already. Standing puts her close to him, her knee almost bumping his leg.

His dark eyes seem to bore into hers.

Her breath hitches.

His gaze flickers down to her lips.

She leans up.

His hands on her shoulders stop her.

She frowns.

He tilts his head. “I don't share.”

His fingers flex as he gently pushes her away from him. Severus leaves the room, and Hermione is left with only herself and the quiet.


	10. Don't Look Too Closely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: Mentions of child abuse
> 
> For [turtle_wexler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_wexler/pseuds/turtle_wexler)

Severus is five and a half years old when he first realises people will ignore things that are uncomfortable. He's buying ciggies for his da, and the man behind the till says nothing about his split lip and black eye.

It gets beaten into him again and again as the years go by.

It's in the way there are boos as the Sorting Hat murmurs in his ear and calls out 'Slytherin'.

It's in the way Dumbledore looks at him with icy eyes as he lies in the Hospital Wing and forbids him to tell anyone what really happened in the Shrieking Shack.

It's in the way the whispers follow him when he returns as a Professor. Death Eater, they whisper. Snivellus, some of the other students whisper – those who remember his humiliation. He makes them regret it, but with house points and detention instead of hexes and fists.

When he lies in a hospital bed at St Mungo's and listens to Minerva's tearful apology and that “she should have known,” he thinks, how could she? She's just as guilty as the rest of them.

He goes back to teaching – he doesn't have much choice – and he hates it even more than he did before. The cold of the dungeons makes his body ache and no amount of warming charms help. His cane echoes against the flagstone floor as makes sure no one's blowing up their cauldron.

So becomes his life. The other staff mostly leave him alone, and he can't even muster the energy to be hurt.

Then Hermione Granger joins the staff, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He loathes her instantly. She talks too much at breakfast, frequently invites herself to his office for a cup of tea and always sits next to him at staff meetings. It's downright rude.

It takes six months for him to allow her to call him Severus.

Another three months and he begrudgingly admits he enjoys her company.

Five months later, he's so in love with her it hurts.

Her second Christmas at the castle, she comes down to his quarters on Christmas Day.

“I noticed you're always cold,” she says as he unfolds the large forest green blanket. It's taller than he is and softer than a pygmy puff. “I'm sorry it's a bit wonky, I never was that good at knitting.”

Severus swallows hard. He can't remember the last time someone looked closely enough to notice anything about him.

She smiles shyly. “I made it big enough for two.”

The blanket turns out to be very warm, but not as warm as Hermione's hand tucked into his.


	11. Kiwi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E  
> Warnings: Smut, Power dynamics, Light BDSM
> 
> For [NaomiJameston](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naomijameston)

His eyes follow her from his place in the secluded corner. No one's watching him, and he sips his champagne and imagines what she's wearing underneath her wine coloured dress. Probably not a lot; the straps are thin and the back of the dress is low. He wants to run his tongue up the length of her spine, grab a fistful of hair and devour her.

Severus sips his champagne.

All in good time.

She turns in his direction, and her silver bracelet catches the light. His eyes darken.

Her amber eyes meet his, brow quirked in a question.

He gives a brief nod.

Minutes later, they step out of the Floo in their bedroom. Hermione moves to the centre of the bedroom, hands by her side.

Severus wards the Floo, then takes his place in the armchair by the bed. Making himself comfortable, he studies her.

Her breath is slightly faster than normal, a becoming shade of pink on her neck and cheeks. The dress hugs her figure, shows off the swell of her hips and a bit of a pale leg where the slit opens.

He tilts his head. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

She wets her lips. “Yes, sir.”

“Take off your dress.”

Hermione's breath hitches. She pulls one strap down over her shoulder, then the other. A few shrugs and the dress pools around her ankles.

Fuck. His cock hardens in his trousers.

He stands, then circles her body. She had been almost bare underneath her dress, save for an emerald suspender belt, holding up the sheer suspenders. Her thighs part slightly. He runs the back of his index finger down her spine, to the top of the suspender belt. She lets out a soft whimper and leans back into his touch.

“You look exquisite, with or without your dress.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Severus walks around to her front. Her nipples are practically begging for his tongue, but he controls himself.

“Are you ready to play, pet?” he purrs, letting the pad of his thumb brush against her damp curls.

“Yes, sir,” she pants.

“What's your safeword?”

“Hemlock.”

He crushes his mouth to hers, demanding entrance. She gives it immediately, moaning into his mouth. He cups her bare arse, squeezing her cheeks and rubbing his clothed cock against her centre. He steps back, and she follows for half a step before catching herself.

Severus smirks. “Let's see if we can't get you to double digits tonight, shall we?”

She bites her lip.

He jerks his head. “Get on the bed, love.”

Hermione stretches out on her back, knees raised and parted and arms above her head. Ropes bind her hands to the headboard with a wave of his hand. She moans.

He's going to enjoy this.

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Loathe it? Love it? Let me know. Come chat with me on [Tumblr!](https://morbidmuch.tumblr.com/) I'm friendly and sometimes funny.


End file.
